


Your Touch Stops the Burn

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Kinktober 2019 [16]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Sam Wilson, Double Penetration, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Bucky Barnes, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26515618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: Sam hasn’t been in their bed for hours. Bucky knows that they, Steve and him, came home late. Midnight inching ever closer to one. Sam had already been in bed, pieces of clothing that smelled of Bucky and Steve close to his nose. There had been a sweet scent there, almost covering the smell of cinnamon but Bucky had been too tired to care. The alarm clock to Bucky’s left shows an unforgiving five thirty-eight that blinks to thirty-nine as he watches. It’s been maybe five hours since they got home which means that Sam has to have left the bed shortly after they joined him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: Kinktober 2019 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1502630
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	Your Touch Stops the Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Late Kink fill. This is for Double Penetration.

“My Fecund starts in three days… or at least it should, if it keeps to the schedule,” Sam says not looking up from his hands. He’s doing “maintenance” on his little drone to keep from giving away his nerves.

It won’t be his first Fecund around or with Steve and Bucky. But it _will_ be the first since their talk. Since they laid their souls bare and had a frank discussion about children. About carrying and siring and fear and _hopes_.

“Do you want to,” he makes an aborted gesture with the hand holding the screwdriver, “try? This time?”

It’s not at all unnerving that they aren’t saying anything. That Sam can’t even hear them _breathe_ . Totally cool. Riley got quiet too when Sam started talking about making dreams realities. And maybe Sam isn’t giving them enough time _to_ talk. Is he rambling? He probably is. Should _not_ have taken that cup of coffee from Stark before having this talk. He takes a deep breath and then another. Flinches slightly when a hand covers his.

“Sam?” Steve’s voice is soft, worried, his thumb stroking the top of Sam’s wrist.

“When Tony says he’s experimenting with coffee do _not_ take the offered cup?”

He’s still not looking up. Steve’s other hand cups his face. Guides it up. Steve is there, blue eyes holding so much emotion that it takes Sam’s breath away. The smell of rosemary and worry thick in front. He hears Bucky move, his flesh hand landing on his shoulder. Fingers slipping under the collar of his shirt and pressing down on one of the Marks that Riley left.

Before Bucky, before Steve; when anyone touched one of the Marks his Mate had left on him it lead to feelings of violation. Of revulsion. But when they touch them? It’s not quite the echo of emotion he gets when he touches them, but it’s… nice. Warm. Safe. Sam melts into the touch. His heart calms as his lovers surround him. As the worry, sharp-bitter-burnt-metal, that was mixed with rosemary and ginger melts away he relaxes.

“If world ending disasters don’t pop up, we would love to,” Steve says. There is a scent mixing with the typical Alpha that Steve seems to carry like thick perfume. It’s sharp. Not arousal or love, the most common scents Steve gets around his lovers.

“I call that Steve’s ‘Cave-Alpha’ scent,” Bucky whispers in his ear. There’s laughter in his voice, metal hand joining it’s flesh twin in Sam’s other shoulder.

“A mixture of possessiveness, love, and pride.”

Sam snorts, tilting his head back for a kiss that Bucky eagerly gives him. And just like that the nerves are gone.

Which of course is when the call comes in that Steve and Bucky are needed to take down a Hydra base with Natasha.

* * *

For a moment or three Bucky doesn’t know what wakes him. Though the room is dark, it’s calm. No wheezing, labored breath that means Stevie is sick. No Gunny yelling orders. No blaring alarm signaling that the Avengers are needed. He’s warm. The warm that wraps around bones like a blanket and means that he’s been out of cryo for a long time. That him finding Stevie wasn’t a dream. Inhaling deep he can smell Steve. Smell the graphite and wood from his pencils, the smell of metal from the shield, the natural Alpha rosemary. He can smell faded cinnamon. Wait. He sits up, the blanket looking at his waist.

Sam. Sam hasn’t been in their bed for hours. Bucky knows that they, Steve and him, came home late. Midnight inching ever closer to one. Sam had already been in bed, pieces of clothing that smelled of Bucky and Steve close to his nose. There had been a sweet scent there, almost covering the smell of cinnamon but Bucky had been too tired to care. The alarm clock to Bucky’s left shows an unforgiving five thirty-eight that blinks to thirty-nine as he watches. It’s been maybe five hours since they got home which means that Sam has to have left the bed shortly after they joined him.

Bucky slips out of the bed, snorting when Steve rolls over arms and legs stretching across the now available space like a starfish. He knows that little will wake Steve now. His head tilts his head as he takes in the room. Jarvis doesn’t spring to life, the room isn’t destroyed. So wherever his lover went it was under his own violation. It helps keep the panic away. And then he sees that the door to the master bath is closed and no light peaks from the crack at the bottom.

That’s when he hears it. Under the sound of running water, the shower maybe, the sound of muffled whimpers. Undetectable to those without enhanced hearing and those whose very existence hadn’t relied on constant vigilance. Before he knows it, he’s crossed the distance between bed and door. Eases the door open though he wants to break it down.

“Sam? I’m going to turn on the light, okay?”

Taking the choked off moan as a yes, he flicks it on. There is a snort behind him as the light floods out. The sweet smell from earlier all but attacks his nose. The water does nothing to weaken it; so sweet like real maple syrup. Bucky barely waits for his sight to adjust to the light before he’s moving again. He crouches down next to Sam, hands fluttering about. He wants to touch but isn’t sure it will be wanted. Not everyone finds touch soothing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve heard that some people’s Heat or whatever often varies in intensity.” Sam speaks leaning toward Bucky, “But after my first Fecund they’ve all been mild. Sure, I get turned on easier, and maybe once or twice I’ll need a liner for slick but… it’s _mild_. Easy to handle.”

Steve is much the same, his Ruts are mild compared to most. Bucky on the other hand; the first day of his Heat is misery. Cautiously he touches Sam. Hugs him. Ignores the water coming from the shower head.

“And then I wake up this morning. I wake and I’m burning. I’m burning and it feels like I have a million paper cuts under the flames. Touching you, touching Steve helped… but it wasn’t enough,” Sam gasps out. He’s shaking like a leaf. Bucky doubts it’s just because of the shower.

“Touching you gave me small places of cool while the rest of me continued to burn. God, I just wanted to lay on one of you while using the other as a cover. But I knew that if I tried I wouldn’t have kept it PG.”

With those words Bucky all but climbs into the tub. The ice cold temperature he’s been trying to ignore soaks him to the bone as he runs his hands over Sam. Trying to do the impossible and just hold Sam’s entirety in his palms. To calm and soothe. Somnophilia isn’t a kink of Sam’s. Bucky knows this because they discussed it. Because Sam says that communication is key. Because it _is_ and Bucky wishes that Hydra hadn’t taken away the ease he once communicated with. He wishes they communicated _more_ . So they could avoid situations like _this._ It’s so fucking _cold_ how can Sam stand it?

“Why didn’t you _wake_ us?”

Sam blinks slowly, like the idea never even crossed his mind. Like Bucky is talking in _tongues_ . He wants to strangle something when Sam looks like that. Bucky shivers, he’s blocking most if not all of the water from hitting his lover. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s so fucking _cold_.

“It was two in the morning. You two clearly just got ba-“

“If me and Steve tried that line what would you have said to _us_?” Bucky asks him, cutting him off and only feeling slightly bad for it. 

Sam looks sheepish.

“I’d tell you to stop being self-sacrificing idiots and to let me help you.”

Bucky shivers again, not helping the self-sacrificing idiot image. Especially since Sam catches it this time. His brown eyes go wide before he dives for the temperature controls. The water shuts off and Bucky gets a lap full of Sam. His back gets introduced and friendly with spigot. 

Before Sam can apologize, and Bucky can all but feel one forming in Sam’s mouth, the ex Winter Soldier kisses him. Pours all his love and affection into that kiss.

“I’m going to dry you off, carry you to bed and then wake up Stevie. From there, what we do is completely up to you.”

* * *

Sam closes his eyes and tries not to flinch as Bucky gently runs a towel down his arms. He knows that he should open his mouth. Should tell Bucky that no matter how gentle he is, no matter how soft the towel typically is… it feels like a potato peeler scraping off his skin. It _hurts_. Even the cold porcelain of the toilet seat lid that he’s sitting on feels like the head of a wire pet brush.

“Sam?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t need to look to know that Bucky doesn’t believe him. The towel is dropped and warm/cold hands are placed on either side of his face. And then Bucky is kissing him, slow and sweet. Their mouths meld together. Hands trail down his shoulders like a fountain of relief. He wants to drown in it.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“ _Yeah._ ”

He’s grateful that there’s no mention of putting on the clothes that he abandoned in his mad dash for the tub. Bucky kisses him again, metal arm resting lightly on his hip. The kiss breaks and Sam expects Bucky to hold a hand. He can still walk, Bucky doesn’t _need_ to carry him. So being _actually_ carried to bed is not what he had planned. But like _hell_ is he going to complain. The sigh that slips out of his throat as he deflates like a balloon is long and drawn out. Is relieved. Peaceful. Wrapped in comfort he relaxes.

Steve is awake, sitting up the covers thrown off the bed when they reach it. Arms out and waiting to take Sam. The Beta passes from Bucky’s arms to Steve’s in one well practiced move that has Sam reclining against Steve’s back. Sam lets out a soft whine. While Steve is just as wonderful, just as comforting and pain numbing as Bucky… he wants them both. Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t take long to join them. Safely bracketed between Alpha and Omega; Sam all but _melts_. The heat and scents of his lovers banishing the pain that had been plaguing him since he woke up.

Steve nuzzles his neck, placing opened mouthed kisses on the skin. Nipping. And then he inhales deeply. The exhale tickling Sam’s ear.

“You’re in Fecund.”

“On my last day,” Sam confirms. His lovers had been gone nearly a week. Something must show on his face because Bucky leans in. Nose to nose the Omega smiles softly, blue eyes filled with so much love that Sam feels like he’s flying.

“Remember what I said. _You_ have control here. We’re awake and consenting.”

“Completely. Whatever you want, Sam, just tell us.”

_I want you to fuck me until I’m pregnant. I want both of you at the same time._ The words are there in his head. Images filthy and **vivid.** He can feel Steve getting hard behind him, sees Bucky’s face start to flush as the smell of his lust fills the air.

“Shitty romance novels? I want you to make them look tame… please?”

Time after him uttering those words becomes… irrelevant. Becomes fast and slow. A concept considered and tossed away. Piece by piece they dismantle Sam. They open him up, gentle finger questing, probing, thrusting inside him and voices whispering prayers. Praying to him as if he’s a god. 

They rock like a ship in the ocean. Meeting and falling away like waves. Hands on hips and ribs and -

“Harder. Please. Please. Oh, _fuck_ , **harder**.”

There are stars in his eyes as pleasure builds and builds until it’s spilling out of him. Wordless moans. His lovers are still moving, kissing above his head. His dick twitches, there’s no denying that Steve and Bucky are beautiful but he needs a bit more time before he can be “active” again.

Bucky’s hands tighten on his hips, the metal one clenching down harder than the flesh. He jerks once, twice and then comes. His mouth pulling away from Steve to settle down right under Sam’s right ear and _bites_. And then there is the feel of Steve’s knot; growing and sealing them all together as he all but slams home. If Sam had been standing his legs would be giving out on him. They’re shaking, quivering. God it feels so good. He gives them a sleepy smile.

“Thirty minutes and then I wanna ride both of you.”

Vaguely he hears fond snorts and what he thinks is ‘we’ll hold you to that’ but could just as easily have been ‘go to sleep, you need it.’

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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